


Engage

by Glitch1 (The_Glitches)



Series: Entangle [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Prime
Genre: Dubious Consent, Groping, M/M, Tactile, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/pseuds/Glitch1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The itch begins.</p><p>Megatron progresses a stage up from merely looking...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Engage

By the time he realized what an effect it had on him, it was too late. The itch had started. The floodgates were open.

He cursed himself before deciding to simply ride it out. It would dwindle eventually once he had his fill of – admittedly – creepy staring, his fill of visual satisfaction, after which this _pull_ towards Starscream would grow tiresome and his processor would cease this fixation. It had become an annoyance, not only during Earth’s daylight hours, but even during the solitude of his recharges. The failed attempts to banish the Seeker from his thoughts were trying; though when he actually _humored_ the images he had no qualms (quite the opposite). This, inevitably, led to stirrings, which then irked him on a frustrated level. Megatron blamed Starscream entirely.

It was not without discretion that this renewed interest was pacified. For the most part, anyway. Large and imposing he may be, but surreptitious he was also. His lusting was not something to be broadcasted, although, when he could he would blatantly watch his Second conduct his duties, scorch the Seeker’s quirks and mannerisms into his processor so that he might later take them to his berth and replay, analyze. The pleasure he gained was a mild thrum that would urge him to watch harder, observe closer. He would catch tiny movements, notice slight motions and recognize fleeting gestures that would otherwise go unnoticed. They spoke of unknown insights into the Seeker’s personality, deeper layers to a complexity that had always been ignored; it fascinated Megatron to realize he had never seen these little quirks.

Starscream was not entirely oblivious to this strange attention, nor was he apparently comfortable with it. He began to avoid Megatron as much as possible barring the interactions mandatory to his statutory position, his bewilderment as evident as the wings on his back – and, ironically, publicized via them. Megatron found this quite amusing, despite it hampering his new hobby. Their military meetings became short lived but no less enjoyed, until, before he realized it, Megatron began to anticipate reports. He refused to acknowledge this as anything more than a carnal infatuation, empty lust seeking assuage in the form of concentrated scrutiny, but nor did he refuse to desist. Not even Soundwave’s sideways glances could dissuade him.

War, however, had its way of interfering. The Autobots became the focus, demanding full attention for many solar cycles and consequently thrusting Starscream back into easy optic line. There was little time for long examinations, but during discussions on the bridge between the main officers Starscream’s devious contributions offered Megatron plenty of visual nourishment. 

It was during the third meeting, some solar cycles later, that Starscream unintentionally nudged the floodgates open wider and provoked the itch. More than willing to announce his brilliant schemes to combat the Autobots, Starscream forgot his inhibitions and eagerly flounced before Megatron, lithe frame fluid, slender legs graceful, wings freely exposing his emotions, flickering and fluttering and completely escaping the Seeker’s check. Something within Megatron stirred heatedly, something that hissed, _claim_. 

Despite this, he did not implement Starscream’s strategy against the Autobots, earning a haughty, disapproving and angry glare. His wings hitched aggressively on his back, a rather audacious display had it been deliberate, but the Seeker remembered his place and said nothing. Megatron fed from his borderline obedience, craved the burn of pleasure at the SIC’s reluctant submission. His fingers twitched, restless and yearning. The itch was increasing.

It began outside in the corridor shortly after, pursued by an irate Seeker, in which the itch accelerated.

Megatron was not an easy mech to argue with, as Starscream had experienced many times, and yet his persistence was both commendable and laughable. Patience was not one of Megatron’s strong points either, but as the bridge doors slid closed, it ended within record time.

Quite suddenly, Starscream found himself shoved none too gently against the wall. His insolent remarks ceased immediately. Optics widened, stunned but defiant in the face of another predictable assault. He had suffered too many punishments to be completely surprised.

Megatron glowered down at him, stationary as he soaked in the position he had his SIC pinned, with a single, powerful servo. It took a mere three seconds for his self-control to relinquish its power over the urge to explore; a testament to this _hold_ Starscream inadvertently had over him. He crowded close, dwarfing the smaller mech within his shadow as he locked their optics, their frames so close Megatron could feel the edges of Starscream’s tightly reigned EM field. The brush of fear mingled with the vestiges of anger sent a prickle of arousal through the gladiator.

And then, very deliberately, Megatron’s optics roved over Starscream’s frame, taking immense pleasure from the abrupt spike of shock in the EM field. Megatron lifted his gaze back to the Seeker’s, and there was no mistaking his intent as it burned through their ocular connection. The vibrations of Starscream’s spark beneath Megatron’s palm hummed faster. It resonated through him, fueling his desire.

Just as purposely, he broke their gazes and turned his optics on his free servo. It swirled slowly across the smooth plating of Starscream’s torso, around the curve of his frame to the edges of his back plates, mapping the panes as his optics followed. Starscream was so stock-still, arms pressed against the wall, that on any other occasion Megatron would have laughed cruelly. Now… he sought pleasure from it.

The servo was gentle but firm as it explored, sliding down the metal until it came to encircle the Seeker’s thin waist. He dug his thumb into the inner contour of his lateral cable, and finally triggered a reaction from his dear, shocked Seeker.

Starscream’s spine bowed, shying away as his motor functions kicked on and out of his stupor. “L-Lord Megatron,” he stuttered, finding his vocalizer. His optics had taken on a frozen, round quality, not completely certain he was comprehending the situation. “What are you – what are you doing?”

Megatron said nothing. His gaze bore into his SIC’s, daring him to defy as he squeezed his servo around that small waist, drawing another curve from the mech’s spine. Slight though the action may have been, it was unintentionally erotic. A wave of hot charge stormed through Megatron’s circuits. 

The quiet sound of metal scraping slowly down the wall broke their renewed silence as Starscream’s wings began to drop. Megatron felt a conceited smirk tugging at his lip plates, pleased with the appealing display before him as his fingers trailed their deadly tips across the glass cockpit. He dug a claw into a seam and felt more than heard the responding hitch. Starscream attempted to push himself even further into the wall.

“Master – ”

Megatron silenced him with a sharp look. He brought his free servo back up the Seeker’s side, relishing the touch as he circled around and pressed his fingers into the seam of his wing. A rather noticeable shiver disturbed Starscream’s frame. Megatron had only ever touched him with violence, to punish and damage. There was no ignoring the instinctual fear clouding his EM field when Megatron turned his attention to his wing. But the warlord’s intent was not to damage, not this time.

An audible gasp escaped Starscream as the servo that had brutalized him countless times pressed a different kind of attention upon him. His wide optics had fastened onto some unfocused point between them, unable to meet those of his master’s. He had not experienced anything of this nature since the beginning of the war. So long ago.

Megatron watched his expressions with rapt concentration as his servo slid exploratory down the length of metal plating, chartering the reactions he received and logging them away. He curled his fingers around the bottom edging and pinched.

The response was almost climactic. Starscream arched into his grip and yelped, a surprised pleasure that wrung a shudder from him. His long, deadly talons gouged tracks into the wall.

Megatron soaked up his unraveling composure hungrily, making a mental note of the sensors he had stimulated. He had always been aware Seekers had extraordinary sensitivity, but he had only abused that datum to inflict pain. Not now. Now, he desired to see what effects he could incite with a different application. He was not disappointed.

Before the Seeker could settle back on his pedes Megatron was fingering the deceivingly delicate aileron, dragging a careful tip along the seam, and almost immediately Starscream began to writhe, bombarded with sensations long forgotten. A low, strangled groan rose from his vocalizer and, before he could control himself, a servo darted to the warlord’s wayward arm, gripping it tightly. In the following silence Megatron heard the quiet humming of cooling fans kick on. Interesting…

Slowly, he cupped the edge of the aileron and lifted the entire wing. Surprisingly, Starscream allowed him, perhaps too dazed to resist. Megatron ran his servo along the whole length, now able to reach the winglet at the end of the substantially long limb. As he thumbed the small prong, the claw gripping his arm clenched, and a quiet pant of intake distributed into the air. The sound amplified Megatron’s already inflamed charge, and he realized that he had significantly underestimated the itch. He was consumed by it. Every urge within him demanded he touch further, demanded he mark his claim. Demanded he _take_ his claim.

Megatron’s ministrations paused. He had been intoxicated with the control he had over his SIC, but the realization of Starscream’s unknowing control over _him_ struck sharply. He shifted his optics to those of the Seeker’s, heavy and glazed as they were. But as the sensations dissipated from his small frame his focus began to clear and he met his master’s gaze warily. His EM field was awash with confusion, arousal and apprehension.

Megatron lowered his servo from the wing and from Starscream’s chest, watching as the flight appendage slowly lowered back to reflect the other’s position. He was still pressing himself into the corridor wall, unknowing how disheveled he appeared, knees bent, slender legs turned slightly inwards. Megatron ached to dominate him.

Wordlessly, he stood back, cast a last, penetrating look across the picture presented before him, turned, and left his SIC in the corridor outside the bridge.

Thoroughly disconcerted, aroused and just a little baffled, Starscream watched him leave, intake gaping, fans still whirring. He couldn’t even pull the processing power together enough to reflect just what in the Pits had happened.

The sharp WHOOSH of the bridge door opening startled him, and the passing drone inclined his head inquisitively at the Commander’s position. 

Starscream stood straight, wings sliding up into their natural position, and collected himself on unstable pedes, too shaken to even shoot a glare at the drone’s lingering glance. He ambled away from the bridge in the direction of his quarters, fully intending to grab some recharge and hope that he would wake with a better clarity of the incident.

The drone veered in a different direction, wondering with burning curiosity just why Commander Starscream’s cooling fans had been cycling.


End file.
